The Appreciation
by myBlueprints
Summary: 3 times that Abbie appreciates Ichabod (and his actions), even though they aren't all that great. Set after Purgatory.
1. Chapter 1

There's a soft (and highly annoying) rapping on door. Either Jenny has suddenly adopted etiquette as part of her life, or the cramps are make her delirious; whichever it is, Abbie doesn't appreciate it. She wants peace and quiet, to sleep off her nemesis undisturbed.

'Go away Jenny,' she croaks, pulling the covers further over her head. It's far too early in the morning, and she's in too much unease to humour her sister.

At times (at times being twice a year), she experiences the merciless cramps of her menstrual cycle. She normally deals with it well, but today, added to the paranormal stuff that's permanently a part of her life now, 'dealing' is not the word she would use. The stinging sensation below her abdomen is making her cranky, the dull squirming in her stomach only further adding to her discomfort.

'Miss Mills?'

It's not Jenny at the door, she should've known by the knocking that it couldn't be her. It's not Jenny, but she still doesn't appreciate her (uncomfortable) peace being disturbed, Crane or not. She sees no point in him having come all the way by taxi to check up on her, especially when she will probably snap at him for the first word he says. She specifically told him that she would be fine, that he didn't need to worry about her. That's what she gets for sending short text messages.

Abbie buries her face deep into a pillow, 'Whaaaat?'

'May I enter?' His voice is the same as always, calm, patient, expectant; she really can't stand that right now. Happy, pain free people are exactly who she doesn't want around her.

'For what?' Of course he must have a reason, she knows that, but she's just too cranky to be nice or thoughtful. The recently new demons in her life have definitely downed her scale of toleration.

'I came to see for myself that you are indeed fine as you messaged me.'

I'm fine Crane, just go away, is what she wants to say to him, to get rid of him once and for all, though she can't quite bring herself to speak those words. The fact that he took a taxi all the way to make sure she is fine stops her.

'Come in,' she gives in, though doesn't uncover herself. She expects to hear the door opening, instead she can only make out silence.

'If I may...are you unclothed perhaps?' The question is asked cautiously, as though by asking it, he will physically undress. Abbie seriously doesn't need his cute befuddlement, not today.

'No Crane,' she says, 'I'm not undressed.' I'm just in my panties and a tight tank top, but I'm under covers so it's okay.

Slowly, the handle turns then silence follows. She's curious to know if he's made it into the room or if he's just standing at the door waiting for another invitation from her. She's curious, but she won't emerge just to find out, she calls him.

'Crane?' Are you still there? Are you gone? Because I suddenly don't like the thought of you gone.

As though reading her thoughts, he responds, 'I'm still here, I haven't left.' He sounds closer, very close to her, she would bet he isn't at the door anymore, but she still won't reveal herself.

'I'm fine you know,' she says under her covers, voice muffled by the pillow she's pressed into.

'I daresay I believe you, however, that you refuse to show your face to me tells me otherwise.' To Abbie it completely sounded like he just called her a coward who's afraid to face her battle.

'I just want to sleep,' is her answer. It's mostly true, but for him, it means she wants him to leave her in peace. It's very uncomfortable what going on inside her body, nothing he does can make it disappear.

There's a long pause following her words, it annoys her.

'What is it Crane?' She's very tempted to throw the covers back and glare at him.

'Miss Mills,' he begins calmly, 'I have brought you something.' That does it, she can't stay hidden anymore, the curiosity inside her is too much. She casts the cover away from her head up to past her shoulders. He's the first thing she sees, standing stock-still next to her bed with a thermos flask in his hands. It's for some reason adorable.

'You brought me tea?' she asks eyeing the flask in his hands. What actually comes to her mind is the day she bought it for him; that had been a pretty good day. She smiles involuntarily.

'It's not tea,' he replies in the authoritarian voice Abbie hates so much at times.

'What is it?'

To her surprise, his cheeks turn a shade darker, his eyes averting her face. There's something new.

'Vegetable broth,' he answers. By broth she hopes he means weird soup, not the broth of boiled food. In any case, eating is the last thing she feels like.

'You came all this way to bring me soup?' it's more than unbelievable, in fact, she wants to slap his arm and make all sorts of remarks about the silliness of his action, but then it hits her that he came all the way to bring her soup. He left home (and probably Katrina sleeping) to bring her soup. She can't remain cranky after that realisation.

'I thought,' he brings his eyes to hers, 'it might assist in your healing...I especially liked broth for when I was ill.'

It's all too cute, he's too much for her. No man would get up as early as he did to prepare soup for another woman while their wife was with them. Abbie can't even understand all the ways she appreciates him, his care, his presence. She nearly doesn't have words to say.

'Did you make it?' she's asking even though she knows the answer. He nods, a small smile of embarrassment on his face. Abbie sits up and holds out her arms for the flash, causing the bed covers slide down past her breasts. She doesn't notice.

'Shall I get a bowl and spoon for you. I merely planned on bringing the broth and leaving...' he trails off, not completing his sentence. Abbie concludes that now he wants to stay for whatever reason. She doesn't mind one bit anymore.

'No,' she shakes her head, 'I'll drink from the flask. And sit, I don't like that you're towering over me when I'm sick.'

Not waiting to be invited twice, he settles on her bed, 'What, pray tell, is the matter with you?'

She's not ashamed to tell him that she's going through a natural woman thing but if he wants to know, he'll have to do better than that. She ignores him, concentrating on opening the flask. The smell that meets her nostrils is unpleasant.

'Is it common?' he presses, his eyes not leaving her face. She ignores him still, this time taking a sip of the soup. She nearly chokes. It's horrible, worse even, the salt is too much, the vegetables are half raw, and there's too much water. Not even if she shuts her eyes and holds her nose, will she be able to drink his soup.

He looks at her expectantly, 'Do you like it?' He looks so much like a child waiting approval, that she doesn't have it in her to tell him the truth. She swallows hard, faking a smile for his benefit.

'I do. Thank you.' She only hopes she doesn't throw up.

Apparently pleased with himself, 'You are most welcome. I knew you would like it. You should drink up before it turns cold,' he suggests.

Too fast, Abbie replies, 'No...it's in flask, it won't get cold, plus I have a microwave.' Please don't make me drink your terrible soup again, because I would, I appreciate you and the thought that much. He looks at her thoughtfully, and Abbie finds that she needs to make another excuse.

'I want to sleep anyway, I'll eat later.' Having said that, she slides down until she's lying under covers again.

'Is there anything else I can do for you?' he wants to know.

'Unless you want to sleep with me...no,' she closes her eyes before she can see him blush, 'I'll be fine. Thank you.' The truth is, she's frightened by the amount of appreciation she feels for him. One more look at him, and she would gush open like a fountain. Feigning sleep is the best option.

'Well,' he says quietly, 'if that is the least I could do to support you...' Abbie feels his weight leave the mattress briefly only to return after a second, 'then I shall sleep with you as said. I couldn't possibly leave you this way.'

He's actually staying with her, instead of going back home he's chosen to stay with her, to sleep in her bed with her. She feels him settle besides her (leaving enough space between them), and thinks that maybe her cramps aren't her nemesis after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Abbie dumps the contents of the laundry basket onto her bed. Laundry is one of those few chores that she absolutely loves. Not many people appreciate cleaning their clothes, much less the sorting, folding and ironing that follows the washing. But she's one of those who adore the whole package that comes with laundry. It's somewhat therapeutic for her, it always has been, smelling the fresh aroma of cleanness, and the soft feel of sanitised fabric in her hands, there's nothing that can quite compare to it.

She acquaints her hands with the feel of her laundered clothes by spreading them out on as much of the bed as possible. This is one task she plans to indulge in completely, besides, she has nothing else to do for the rest of the day, so she might as well. Folding is her special favourite, putting an item together in folds is absolutely genius. She fishes for the 'ironables' one by one, all her tops and t-shirts, flinging them on one side without much notice until she takes hold of a certain top. A frown appears on her face, that top was supposed to be thrown out with last week's trash. She clearly remembers that it tore the previous week when a branch caught it in the Sleepy Hollow forest. She and Crane were yet again running from something when it happened. She also remembers that she'd purposed to chuck it out the moment she arrived home, but then exhaustion happened and all she could manage was pulling it off and dumping it into the laundry room along with the rest of her clothes, before stepping into the shower and completely erasing the top from her memory. It's that she's the only person who would be so silly as to wash something she would be throwing away.

She takes the top in both her hands to inspect it one last time for a final goodbye. Another frown forms on her face. She can't find the tear, even after she's spread it out in her hands. It can't be, the top had a tear in it last week, where did the tear disappear to? Abbie turns it over, finds no tear, then turns it over again, still no tear. She tries to think if it she isn't mistaken, if maybe she has thrown out the torn top after all. If she has, she has no recollection of it, and she nearly gives up trying to find reason, but notices a patch along bottom, very close to the hem and very well done, no wonder she couldn't find the tear. It's been patched. Not only that , it's been perfectly patched as though by a seamstress. She knows that's not true, because the only seamstress she knows in Sleepy Hollow, she hasn't been to see in the longest time. She wonders maybe if Jenny has done it, though she dismisses the idea quickly. Her sister may have placed the laundry into the washing machine and hung it out, but sewing, that's a whole level of 'not able' for her sister. Inspecting the sewing one last time, Abbie decides to pay no attention it, she's never going to wear the top again anyway by dropping it to the floor.

Almost instantly, she bends down to pick it up again. a thought just occurred to her. She'd brought Crane home with her that day. It can be the only explanation. When her top ripped, she lightly complained that she loved it and he mentioned something about how she could mend it if she wanted, that's what he did with the clothes he loved.

It's nearly ridiculous how overwhelmed she is by the thought that Crane somehow managed to find a needle and thread and mend her top in the time she was in the shower. Cuter still, is that he didn't tell her about it. As though showered in smiling potion, her face truly ignites in a smile, and she's digging under the laundry on the bed in search of her phone. As soon as it's in her hand, she presses his speed dial. She's suddenly excited for speaking to him, this new piece of information plays in all sorts of ways inside her. He's the only person she knows who would do something so...

'Crane?' she activates the loudspeaker function, and gently places the phone back on the bed. She can talk to him and fold her clothes at the same time.

'Hallo?' he responds on the other end. Only he can make a simple word sound so loaded, it's a talent probably, now that she thinks of it.

'I found it,' she tells him.

'You found what?'

She can see him making the face he makes when he can't understand something, his voice sounds like that face.

'My top.' He's scarily clever, the kind that can figure out stuff in milliseconds, that's how she's sure it won't take a second for him to catch on what she means. There's silence on his end for a minute however. She waits for him, separating her jeans from the rest of the items.

'Oh,' he finally says. It's cute actually, his short I've-been-found-out 'oh', she smiles all over again.

'It was very thoughtful of you.' Even though she'll never wear the top again (not for anything), the little action is highly appreciated. It shows just how much of a compassionate person he is, or maybe that's just her.

'You mentioned that you loved it...when the opportunity presented itself, I wanted to do something for you as well. I'm always on the receiving end of your kindness...I guess I only felt it was right to perform that little insignificant action.'

Abbie suddenly feels like she's a fifteen year-old hearing her crush say the words she's always wanted to hear from him. The feeling is so strong she literally sits down and places the phone to her ear (forgetting to change it back to headset), a big goofy grin on her face. How did it transition from a friendly phone call to this? Whatever 'this' is.

'It's not insignificant,' she says. She's highly appreciative of it, just thinking that he held her smelly and dirty top in his hands just to 'do something nice' for her, creates emotions she hasn't felt since puberty.

His next words sound very practiced, 'I'm glad that you think that way, I...it wasn't a burden doing that for you. I do apologise for doing it behind your back, I wanted it to be a surprise.'

'Gosh, it was, is, you should've seen my face...' In fact, you should see my face right now.

'I would've enjoyed that,' he says softly, as though he's imagining her face in his head. Abbie highly suspects that he's held that in for sometime, her cheeks heat slightly because she likes that he said that, more specifically, she likes that he's been thinking of her.

'Thank you,' is all she can think to say, because she realises that she can keep her phone pressed to her ear not saying a word to him, and the current effect wouldn't wear off.

She hears him smile, 'You are most welcome. And I would willingly do it again.'

Abbie laughs, mostly to bring herself back to her body, 'Careful, you might regret saying that. I have tons of clothes.' Is it at all normal that she feels like they're flirting in strange weird way? She sure feels like they are.

'I'm well aware,' he replies, 'yet that won't put me off. However long it takes to repay you for all you've done, I will do it.'

So there, they are definitely flirting, it's all wrong, she decides, it has to stop.

'Noted. So...' she looks for the best way to end their phone conversation, 'I'm sorting my laundry out...'

'I understand,' he agrees, 'Thank you for the call.'

What? Isn't she the thankful one, why is he thanking her?

'Okay Crane,' she smiles, 'I'll see you tomorrow.' She hangs up quickly, not wanting to hear anything from his end. Once again, she takes the mended shirt into her hands. She still can't believe him, that he's actually done this for her. her fingers trace the patchwork, a lazy smile not missing from her face.

'You forgot to say 'I love you'.'

Abbie breaks from her thoughts to the source of sound. Her sister is looking at her with a tired expression.

'What?' Abbie doesn't understand.

'Your phone call said everything except what you should've said,' she shrugs, 'It was actually kind of gross seeing you being gushy and fifteen.'

Did she really behave that badly? Did her appreciation somehow come out all mushy? And how long has Jenny been spying on her?

'So I can't appreciate my friend?' she asks Jenny, her eyebrows drawing together. In turn Jenny's eyebrows shoot up, 'Like that? Yeah, no one appreciates their 'friends' like that. Anyway, I'm looking for my black sweatpants, do you have them in here?'

Jenny can be a pain, especially when she can get her to question herself.


	3. Chapter 3

Leftenant, I've lost my phone, can you please call me so that I can hear it ring.

Great, super great, Abbie sighs inside. She still has a good deal of paperwork stacked on her desk, a thunderstorm has just begun and evidently, Crane has discovered text jokes. But at such an hour really? He should be asleep.

Abbie pushes her phone to the side, not bothering to reply. He's persistent, she'll give him that.

She's never particularly cared for the rain, but now that she's one of the two detectives still left in the precinct at such a late hour, she minds it very much. The thunder is disturbing her concentration, and every flash of lighting she sees, increases her fear of the light going off. If that happens, she'll give up and go home.

Her phone buzzes again. She sighs aloud this time, pulling the phone into her view.

Leftenant, I am worried about you, are you all right? Please call me.

Either he's bored, or he's really bored. Or he's honestly worried about her, fuelled by her ignoring of his calls and voicemails in the last three hours. Now he's apparently resorting to text messages. She can't blame him, she's been AWOL since the early hours of the morning, he hasn't heard a thing from her, and that no doubt worries him. It's not that she means to make him worry, it's just...today marks two years since Corbin died. She needs to be by herself. Just today.

Another buzz comes from her phone. She considers not reading the message, but for the same reason she hasn't turned her phone off, she reads his message.

A little message would suffice. Tell me anything.

She wants to, but she's not up to what would come after, his concern, his pressing to hear how she feels. All she craves is to get home extremely tired, only heading straight for bed. Last year had been the same, in the morning hours, she drove to another town only to drive back to Sleepy Hollow the moment she filled her car with petrol. It was about the driving, just being on the road, not having time to dwell on the fact that Corbin was no longer with her.

Her phone starts to buzz again. She sneaks a look. He's calling. Again.

Thunderstorm, ceaseless phone calls and paperwork, that's just about as much as she's willing to take, she decides. She'll never be done with the paperwork, and he'll not stop calling (the rain doesn't seem to have any intention of stopping soon). Abbie decides to go home, that will get rid of two problems.

He's her housemate for a few weeks.

It's not that she regrets it, it's just...he's Crane, and naturally that is an explanation on its own. He does things, then tries to undo them. He likes to watch weird shows and hover around when she's preparing dinner (something she grew into after the second night, but won't admit). At least he doesn't break things, and more importantly she doesn't mind his presence, even though he and Jenny birthed a club against her.

The cabin is being retrofitted and she really didn't want him living in a motel when she has an extra bedroom. But sometimes, she wishes...she just wishes.

'Crane, what are you doing?' are the most popular words in her house. To think he's been in this century for over two years and his fascination with things never ends.

It's eleven thirty in the evening, when she arrives home to a brightly lit house. And there in the centre of her sitting room is Crane, pacing back and forth, his phone pressed to his ear. He halts when he hears the door closing. For those few seconds that they stare at each other, she feels such a sadness that she can't explain. It's as though seeing the relief on his face rubs it in that Corbin is gone.

'Abbie...' he breathes, 'You are here.'

'Hi Crane,' she keeps her eyes away from him.

'I was extremely worried, and Jenny couldn't tell me where you were-'

'Where's Jenny?' Around this time, her sister would always be exercising.

'She went out a few hours ago,' he tells her. Abbie nods, and starts walking away.

'Abbie,' Crane calls after her.

Reluctantly, she turns to him, 'Crane look, today is just not a good day for me okay. I just want to sleep.' She hasn't eaten, she hasn't cried, nor has she thought about Corbin. But that's the whole point, that she doesn't, she just wants this day to be over.

'I know,' his face falls, 'I know it is the day you lost Sheriff Corbin. I'm well aware,' he walks to her in three steps, 'that you require to be left alone. I however cannot allow that you go through this pain alone, I care deeply for you and want to help you through this day, granted it is nearly over, but I want to all the same.'

'Crane...' she looks up at his face, how does she reject his offer without hurting him? The problem is that she isn't in pain, she doesn't want to be in pain, she just wants the day to be over.

'I know what death means, I've lost people I love...please Abbie, you don't have to go through it alone.'

She understands what he's saying, what she doesn't understand is why he's so concerned, why he's behaving as though he can feel the pain she's not allowing herself to feel. She feels he's connected to the pain she's blocking. She doesn't like it, it makes her want to cry.

'I'm going to bed,' Abbie decides on the spot or she will end up crying in front of him. It's not fair what she's doing to him, but to be perfectly honest, she doesn't know what she's doing to him, or why it's such a big deal. She decides that she doesn't care (even though she does), she'll go to bed and forget about Crane.

Her bedroom door is slightly open, and the light on. For a split second, she's suspicious about it. It can only be Jenny she tells herself, her sister was probably in her room looking for something and in typical Jenny fashion, forgot to close the door at the very least. Abbie pushes the door open wider. The first thing that her eyes fall on, is a middle-sized book on her bed. She's never seen it before. Closing the door behind her, she walks to her bed, falling onto it immediately. She doesn't reach for the book, her eyes only close for a moment.

This, being by herself, is all she needs for now. The box, whatever is in it, can wait.

Her hand hits something, and her eyes open. Confusion is all she knows right now, nothing else. It takes her lifting her head and looking around to remember that she's in her bedroom. She fell asleep, she realises. For how long, she's not sure, but she fell asleep. Because her hand is still close to the book, she pulls it closer to her as she sits up. It's got a ribbon around it, she wonders why. The ribbon makes it appear to be a present. Both her hands untie the ribbon. It's not open, that's the first thing she notices it when she opens it. it's a photo album. She flips through the album.

Photographs of her and Corbin, in random order; at the station, at a function, in the park, surrounded by animals, laughing completely...photographs she's never seen.

She used to have a few photographs of Corbin, but she put them away after he died. If there was one thing she never wanted, it was seeing his face in pictures when he couldn't be there with her. Photographs of dead people have never been her thing, she hates them, she always has, because they bring forgotten memories to life. She's upset with whoever placed the album in her room. Abbie climbs off the bed in a hurry, crossing over to the door and opening it in less than three seconds. She doesn't at all appreciate it.

'Crane,' she calls out, forgetting that he could very well be asleep. The album is firmly in her hand and she's walking in strides to the sitting room. She last left him there, he might still be. He is, seated on the sofa watching television.

'Crane.'

He turns his face away from the TV, 'Is something the matter?'

'What is this?' she waves the album in the air before throwing it on the sofa. She's not sure whether it was him or Jenny, but he's the one present, so she'll start with him.

'Oh,' he picks the album up into his hands, 'One of the workers found it buried under the floorboards in the cabin last week, and I thought it would be a good idea to give it to you on the day that...'

She looks at him as he talks, and then it hits her, he didn't know, he doesn't know about her dislike for photos. Her upset mood suddenly fades away. He didn't know, and all he wanted was to do something comforting for her, to give her something that belonged to Corbin on the day that he died. He probably assumed she would very much feel closer to him on that horrible day and her pain would be less pain and more comfort. She's overcome by emotion for the man before her. Without her awareness, tears well in her eyes.

'Did, did I offend you?' he stands up from the sofa, 'I apologise. I thought it would be a welcome relief to look at the face of your...of Sheriff Corbin. I didn't mean to upset you.'

She's amazed that he can read her so well, that he knows how she's feeling without her saying a single word. If she was full of emotion before, she's downright beyond that now. Her head can't wrap itself around him, he's too much.

'I'm not upset,' she says. She was, she's not anymore, not now that she's realised his intention. He looks like he wants to step to her, to reach out and touch her, but he looks apprehensive too.

'I'm not upset,' Abbie tries to reassure him, 'I just...I hate that you left that album on my bed so I could find it, I hate photos, I hate being reminded of what I don't have...'

His face drops to the floor. Her words have hurt him. Abbie rectifies that by taking the final step between them and placing her right hand on his cheek. That gets him to look up, at her.

'But I appreciate what you did. I appreciate that you care...' she brings her other hand to his other cheek, 'I appreciate you.' His face lights up, his eyes boring into hers.

'Thank you,' she mouths, no sound coming from her mouth, and then she stands on her toes and kisses his cheek. Part cheek, part corner of his mouth actually, lingering there for a few seconds. His arms go around her, locking her into a tight embrace. Abbie wants to stay that way forever.

'Abbie?' he whispers.

Abruptly, she lets go of him, pushing herself from his embrace. It shouldn't lead to anything else.

'Um,' she clears her throat, 'what are you watching?' The question (or most probably her behaviour) earns her a strange look from Crane.

'A documentary on-' he says after a while. Abbie pretends to yawn.

'Boring! I'll just go back to sleep. Goodnight Crane.'

Before he can reply, she's turned around and walking away. It's for their own good, she negotiates with herself, with the amount of appreciation and grief she feels, it's not safe to be around him.


End file.
